


Conversations

by Leviarty



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6794305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviarty/pseuds/Leviarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'Challa talks, Bucky sleeps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations

James Barnes – _Bucky_ – sleeps.

Technically it wasn’t sleeping, it was stasis. The King wondered how much like sleep it really was. Did he dream? Could he hear what was happening around him? Still so much he did not know about it.

 

There were many days he did not feel cut out to be King. His father had been a just and fair ruler, an ideal King. T’Challa could not live up to the legacy set before him. Everywhere he went, people asked questions, demanded his attention.

Everywhere but here.

In here, Bucky slept.

 

“My father always said diplomacy was not my forte. But he also said it was something learned, something that would grow with time. I am not sure I can learn it fast enough.”

Bucky, at least, never asked him hard questions.

 

“The Accords have not had their intended effect,” he said. “I think Captain Rogers foresaw exactly this. My father and the American government had a good idea, but it has twisted in ways we could not imagine. Every week we hear news that New York is being ravaged by another super villain. Someone always steps up to stop them, and new heroes are made, but it always seems just a little too late. The Mighty Avengers are no more; on the run and in hiding. New heroes have stepped up to take their place, here and there, but I fear it will not be enough.”

Still, he slept.

 

“Your friend is well. He calls to check in on your progress when he can. Of course, you are the same as you were the day he left. We have made advances, but not enough.”

 

“I do not even know if you can hear me. Maybe it doesn’t matter of you can.”

 

Leading a country keeps him busy, but it was a small country and his staff was more than capable.

What little free time he had was spent in the labs, where he could build the things he sketched out during meetings.

‘ _This paper is not meant for you to doodle,_ ’ his father had said once. ‘ _It is to take notes. Many things will be discussed, often too many to remember without aid. You would do well to write the important things so you cannot forget them._ ’

But the images that appeared in his mind were too strong to not plan out.

 

“I wish I’d had the opportunity to take your measurements before your arm was lost,” he said. “The second time, I mean. I’m sure you grew quite accustomed to its weight. Replicating it may not serve you well if you can’t function as you once did.”

 

He builds a new arm, better than the old one, he thinks. Then he shelves it for a time when it can be tested.

 

Fixing his arm was the easy part. Fixing his mind proved to be a far greater ordeal.

 

“We are not sure how it will work,” the doctor said. “To be honest, we are not even sure _if_ it will work.”

“Do it,” Bucky said.

“It may be extremely painful,” T’Challa said.

“Been there, done that. Just do what you have to do.”

 

It doesn’t work. T’Challa, for a moment, lets his anger show.

“At least you tried,” Bucky said, climbing back into the cryochamber. “I appreciate that.”

“You do not deserve what has been done to you,” T’Challa said. “You deserve to live your life without the fear of what you might become again.”

“Still, thanks.” He settled into the chamber and closed his eyes, waiting for the scientist to refreeze him. “And thanks for keeping me company. Makes the whole thing a little more bearable.” He smiled, then closed his eyes again.

“What is it like?” T’Challa asked.

“More painful than you might expect,” Bucky said. “At first. But then it’s just kind of like sleeping. But not.”

 

T’Challa talks, Bucky sleeps.

But it’s not really sleep, T’Challa knows.

 

“Ready to try again?” Bucky asked when he woke the next time. The lab was surprisingly void of doctors. He frowned at T’Challa. “What’s going on?”

“There isn’t much time. I need your help.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really unsure on the characterization of both Bucky and T'Challa, so maybe this is kind of practice? And also how I hope the Black Panther movie goes ;)


End file.
